Warden and Champion
by Concetto
Summary: Giant rats are an excellent start to a wonderful story about two star-crossed lovers that are brought together for their love for each other. Their families are constantly at war, and their love was never meant to be. Romeo and Juliet in 2 seconds.
1. Chapter 1

"Your majesty," an Elven servant spoke softly at a double door entrance at a quaintly populated bedroom. "You have a guest from Antiva requesting an audience with you."

The queen looked up from her writing desk with a smile added to her face. She quickly rose from her seat, and rushed to the door to greet her guest. Waiting behind the door was one of her traveling companions that accompanied her during her travels to stop the Blight. His blonde hair was meticulously in perfect condition considering what his job was. Not only was his hair good, his overall appearance didn't seem to change over the years. She opened the door revealing her guests. "Zev!" she rushed to hug her dear friend. "I was beginning to wonder when you'd return."

"Oh, your majesty," Zevran sunk into her hug, mentally and physically remembering her touch and scent. "You're too kind to me," he reciprocated her hug.

"I take it your job is complete?" she released him from her grip, and returned to her writing desk.

"Of course, mi bella," He smiled charismatically. "You gave very good leads."

"And Kirkwall?" she picked up a piece of parchment with text scribbled on one side.

"She has a lot of your qualities and a possessive bodyguard," Zevran spoke as vividly as he could from memory. "The bodyguard might be more than a bodyguard."

"Hm," she studied the note. "Would you say she's more capable than you thought?"

"Compared to you? A close second."

"Zev," she placed the note back on the desk, and glanced back to his direction, staring directly into his brown eyes. "Make sure she finds her way to Denerim," Her tone shifted from joy to a cold, stern authoritative voice. Zev's demeanor changed drastically when he caught the hint of seriousness in her voice. It was bad enough that glare she was giving sent chills down his spine.

"If I may speak informally."

"Yes, Zev?" Her normal demeanor started to return.

"Seriousness doesn't suit your beauty," He spoke truthfully.

Caitlyn smiled at his direct attempt of taking her down a notch without being too pushy. "I take it you've seen my husband as well?"

Zev nodded in confirmation. "He spoke briefly to the Champion, also."

"Thank you, Zevran," She walked to his side. "Is there anything I can do for you?" She slipped a note into one of his many pouches.

"A kiss, yes?" Zev slyly smiled as she grabbed her hand as it attempted to exit his pouch.

"A kiss," She leaned to the left side of his face, giving him a peck on his cheek.

"You tease," he happily laughed. "I'll be returning to Antiva soon to tie up from loose ends," he thumbed the note she to planted in his satchel. "Or, do you need me elsewhere?" he smiled to his host hoping that she'd say yes.

Caitlyn looked over her desk trying to find any task that would interest Zev, or at least keep him within Denerim. She continuously sifted through unkempt piles of paper with various amounts of confidential information that was only useful to Alistair and her knowledge. With one more final inspection, she found the perfect task for him to do. "Would you be interested in…" she paused briefly thinking on if she should offer him the duty of staying within the castle walls as a personal bodyguard. Knowing that he was single handedly destroying the Crows with the information she provided; it might not be a great idea.

"The hesitation in your voice; could it be—," before Zevran could finish his sentence three playful knocks resounded through the thick wood. "The king returns," Zev noticed by the way he knocked. "We'll continue at a later date, no?" He reassured her making exit to a nearby window. "Thank you, for all that you've done," he leaped out the window, landing in a cart of cabbage. "A wonderful exit if I do say so," he chuckled under his breath climbing out of the cart. He dusted his body off removing any remaining leaves of cabbage. He looked up to his exit reminiscing on the things that could have been, before setting off for the port of Amaranthine.

Caitlyn excitedly opened the bedroom's door allowing Alistair to enter. He looked tired from his travel to Kirkwall, but easily relieved to see the love of his life upon his return.

"Caity, dear," he playfully called to her. "How have things been while I was away? Did the mouse play while the cat was away?" He smirked in her direction.

Caitlyn gently ran her pointer and index finger under his lightly scruffy chin. "That depends, "she flirtatiously teased back.

"You little minx," he blissfully pulled her close to his body.

"Are you complaining?" she continued to taunt.

"Of course not!" he lightly chuckled at her smart remark. "…But before we go anywhere…"

"Oh, just kill the mood, will you," she giggled. "All these years and you're still a blushing chantry boy."

"You words wound me," he planted a sweet kiss on her lips catching her slightly off-guard.

Her knees buckled momentarily from his surprise attack that left speechless and eating her previous remark. "A blushing chantry boy you are not," she wryly retracted her statement. "Was there something you wanted to discuss?"

"Look who's killing the mood now," he mockingly grinned. "But, yes, it's about the Champion of Kirkwall."

She quixotically looked into his eyes. "This Champion must be important," she softly released herself from his arms. "How was the situation while you were there?" Caitlyn's curiosity was getting the best of her. Given that Zevran gave her some light on the Champion's overall personality and potential romantic interest there wasn't really much she knew about the Champion.

"Other than being chewed out by the Knight-Commander, I can safely say that Kirkwall has a storm brewing overhead," he rubbed the back of his neck. "The Champion… she's being thrown in the middle of that storm. I don't see the outcome being good for either side."

Caitlyn arched an eyebrow at what Alistair was telling her. "Just what is going on in the Free Marches?" she walked over to the window Zevran exited from. "It's been several years since the Blight, and it seems that the world is getting worse than what it was," she watched the city go on with their life as she left contemplating on what her next move should be.

"Caity," Alistair departed from his childish character. "Remember, you're a warden before you are a queen. You can't interfere with Kirkwall's politics, and I'm sure you've heard about other Wardens making an appearance in Kirkwall from a certain someone."

"I can't let you have all the fun," she cheerfully replied. "As Warden-Commander, if I even still have that title, I haven't heard any news of Wardens in Kirkwall," her voice dropped into grief. "Nathaniel, Anders, Oghren… I haven't heard from them since I returned from Amaranthine."

Alistair placed his hands on her shoulders to ease her building tension. He knew those six years ago that making those decisions would break her constitution at some point. Sparing his life, putting him on the throne, and choosing to rule beside him to continue to stay by his side putting her personal feelings aside just to keep him happy; it truly was only a matter of time before the highlights of all those events began to settle in, and he knew it very well. He also knew that without her, he would also be worse for wear ruling the kingdom alone. They were both trapped into their own prison without giving little thought to the after effects.


	2. Chapter 2

"Wait a little bit," Rosalyn exasperated under her breath. "We've been walking nonstop for a few days now," She looked to her white haired companion that was more than few paces ahead of her. He took two more steps before coming to complete halt. Turning his head to her direction, his hardened expression became slightly softer as he noticed that she was as not as strong as she appeared on the outside.

"How would the people of Kirkwall see their Champion now; knowing that you are not invincible?" he questioned in a joking manner, but still came off as serious.

"I never asked for that title," Rosalyn barked back while taking a seat on a moss covered rock. She searched the horizon looking for any noticeable landmarks that looked familiar from her past. To her dismay her mental map was no longer useful to her. The entire landscape had changed over the years due to the Blight, or just nature itself. Admitting her defeat mentally she pulled a small satchel from her side, sifting through the remaining coin she managed to save before mysteriously taking off from Kirkwall. With their reserves getting low, it would only be a matter of time before their food reserves began to disappear.

"Hawke," her companion spoke with moderate authority. "Are we lost?"

Rosalyn shot a quick glance to his direction, "Doubting my survival skills, Fenris?" she asked lightheartedly.

"It's not that, it's just that we've passed his area a few times already."

Hawke's eyes widened as she rapidly began to sort through the grass bearing moistened dirt looking for fresh footprints. If her behavior and surprised expression didn't set off any bells in Fenris' head at the moment it was only to save face of not being admit his love for seeing Rosalyn be completely vulnerable.

"You should have bought that map at the last town we visited," he firmly stated while walking to her side.

"I just thought I'd remember my way from Kirkwall back to Denerim at least," She whispered under her breath still frantically searching the ground.

Fenris laid his sword down to the ground, taking a sit next to Hawke. "You're just tired," he places his hand on top of her hands. "Let's camp here."

"Fenris," Hawke smirked. "When did you become so caring?"

"I… You just look tired from all the walking. That's all."

"Uh huh," she smiled as Fenris turned his head to hide his embarrassment of being caught in a slightly compromising position. "Who's vulnerable now?" she asked sarcastically as she returned to her normal demeanor.

"Camp. Is here. Tonight." He quickly blurted out.

Rosalyn reached in their shared pack pulling out a neatly folded tent, at the same time Fenris browsed the flat ground looking for tinder for a fire. With the tent almost complete, a small thud sound from behind her back. Thinking nothing of it she continued to making final touches to their tent for the night. With the tent complete, she exited hoping that the dull sound was the sound of wood being dropped to the ground. What she didn't expect was to find an unconscious blonde haired elf sprawled on the ground.

"From one thing to another it seems," she sighed with disbelief while rubbing her eyebrows in discomfort. She felt the elf's wrist and side of his neck searching for a pulse. Luckily, he was not on his way to the Maker. Eyeing the elf's body it seemed that he had simply fainted, but something about this elf was familiar; as if Rosalyn had met him somewhere in her frequent travels along the Wounded Coast. She carefully turned him onto his back. The left side of his face bared a strikingly recognizable slender tattoo.

"The assassin," Fenris returned with a bundle of wood in his arms, and a scowl on his face. "Kill him."

"No need to jump to conclsions."

"He has appeared one too many times," Fenris dropped the wood to his feet. "And he has a record for being caught."

"I wouldn't want the Warden coming after us once she finds out I killed her friend," she glanced at Fenris' now glowing hand. "A second chance wouldn't hurt."

"Third chance."

Hawke had managed to calm Fenris down from his small fit of underlying rage. If there was one thing she could do well was keep his anger at bay with a reasonable tone. Fenris kept his eyes on the enemy while watching Hawke try to nurse him back to consciousness all while prepping the campfire. With the sun now setting and the would-be assassin still not waking up anytime soon, Fenris retired into the tent leaving Rosalyn to tend to her patient. The tattooed elf's fingers twitched abruptly as soon as Fenris was out of sight. Relieved, Rosalyn placed his head on her lap to offer him the remaining water she could spare.

"Oh, thank you," he spoke in his strong Antivan accent. "And may I say that your legs are as soft as I imagined. No, softer than other legs I've been given the opportunity to touch."

Considerably embarrassed, Hawke abruptly stood up knocking her now lucid patient's head to the soil. "Let's work on not getting you killed, yes?"

"Don't worry, Champion, I'm not here to kill or steal you away from your… friend." He gathered his balance letting out a small chuckle. "As you remember, I'm an _occasional_ assassin."

"What is your business with me?" A hint of intrigue escaped her lips.

"Replace what I've lost of course," the assassin smirked and raised a brow.

"Not interested," Hawke coldly turned down his advance."

"Well, it was worth a try. Anyway, I'm here because you've been given audience in Denerim."

"Denerim? From the king."

Zeveran laughed. "Oh no, not the king. I doubt he'd order my services."

"Then who would request to see me in Denerim besides the king?" Rosalyn was getting mildly annoyed at Zevran's trivial mind games.

"My worthy lady, you've been in Kirkwall too long. His wife of course!"

Shocked, Hawke searched for any hint of lie in his voice. Zevran may have been a failed assassin that excelled at being a failed assassin, but she could see the truthfulness in his expression and soft charming eyes. "If the queen truly wanted to see me she could have made and appearance in Kirkwall."

"You know royalty, travelling together would make them easy targets.

Rosalyn squinted her eyes in disapproval. "Who would try to kill a grey warden?"

"Ohoho, that is where I have you."

"What?"

"I may have tried to kill her, but being the loving and tender person she is; she spared me," he sighed lightly. "Someone I can never truly forget."

"Sounds like there are some feelings there."

"Indeed," he smiled. "Well, my job is done here." He stood dusting of his leather pants. "She should still be in Denerim on the throne near Alistair. They are quite inseparable, after all," he pulled out a creased scroll from his pocket. "A good rogue always travels with a map."

"A good assassin always kills his target," Hawke retorted.

"An excellent assassin is a master of disguise."

"Touché," Hawke nodded in agreement as Zevran disappeared into the night as soon as he appeared. Glancing at the map she recently acquired she now had their current location: the outskirts of Amarantine and the Bannorn. So close to their destination, yet so far off. With the remainder of the night left Rosalyn turned in to get much needed sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

With dawn slowly approaching, Fenris was the first to wake. He glances over to his right noticing Hawke was still sleeping. He brushed his fingers lightly over her forehead, pushing her short black hair to the side. He crept out of the tent into more solitude. Unsure of what happened last night between the would-be assassin, and his companion, he set off to gather more wood and tinder for a fire; the walk allow for him to gather his thought without much interruption.

Moments later he was greeted by a coyly smiling Hawke. "I was beginning to wonder where my little lamb wandered off to," she teased as she pulled herself from the tent.

Fenris let out an inaudible sigh as he placed bits of wood at her feet. "Woof," he dryly answered back.

"Is something wrong?"

"What did the assassin want?"

Rosalyn perked up. She knew Fenris was protective, but never displayed any form of outright jealousy. Still, she was unsure if he was asking out of jealousy, protectiveness, or pure interest. "Nothing," she spoke in honesty. "He gave us a map, and said that we're expected in Denerim at the request of the Queen."

"Getting away from the palace shouldn't be that hard with all the stories I've heard. Then again the King..." he trailed off thinking of the possibilities if Alistair was the king from the Varric's version of the Hero of Ferelden.

"He was almost a templar," Rosalyn quickly added.

"I see," he smirked.

"I knew you'd agree," she grinned with content.

Within a week's walk they found themselves in the outskirts of rebuilt city of Amaranthine. Walking toward the city's gates, two guardsmen greeted their newcomers. The oldest guard judging by his scruffy of beard picked a small letter from his belt.

"Ser Hawke?" he asked, determining if he had found the right travelers with only a vague description left by someone that had visited ahead of time. "This letter was addressed to you," he gave her the letter without any hesitation.

"Who sent it?" Hawke inspected the note for a name, but couldn't find one.

The elder guard shifted his eyes side to side. "I- we," he fumbled over his words as if he was in some sort of trouble.

"An elf passed by earlier," the younger guard stepped in. "My ally, here, doesn't do too well when put on the spot," he placed a hand on his fellow guardsman's shoulder to calm him down. "If you need a place to stay, there's a tavern not too far from here," he gestured his thumb over his shoulder to the right.

Eyeing the message, Hawke came to the realization that the guard mentioned an elf. "Wait, what did the elf you mentioned look like?" there was a hint of intrigue in her voice.

The elder guard regained his composure. "Blonde, tattoo on the left cheek, slightly tan, and maybe brown eyes," his memory was a spot on report of an elf that both Hawke and Fenris knew well.

"Hawke, this assassin," Fenris nonchalantly articulated. "Did he tell you where he was heading?"

"No," she answered. She put her attention back on the guards. "Is there anything else we should know?"

The younger guard placed his hand on his chin thinking back on if there was any other bits of important information he should have remembered. "Oh," he lowered his hand from his chin. "Your room is paid for at The Crown and Lion."

Hawke cocked an eyebrow questionably. Someone behind the scenes was making sure she found her way to Denerim. Not many people have that much sway over so many groups, unless they were the Carta, but they had been paid in full, so to say. The guards each walked off back to their designated posts, leaving Hawke and Fenris to do as they pleased.

Amaranthine was rebuilt with the help of the Grey Wardens, and Vigil's Keep not too far away, the city did well as a trading hub. Though the Warden-Commander that ordered Amaranthine destroyed wasn't favored among some of the nobles for her actions. With that knowledge she knew it wouldn't be wise to mention the Warden-Commander around the city folk.

Hawke extended her hand out to Fenris. "Shall we?" she smiled faintly. "It would be nice to finally sleep in a bed for a change."

"And to freshen up?" he grabbed her hand, taking the lead.

"Oh?" she sneered. "Someone gained a sense of humor."

They made their way along Amaranthine's crowded streets lined with vendors. The scenery wasn't too different from Kirkwall, just a tad vibrant than they both were accustomed to. As they entered the tavern Rosalyn noticed a group of wardens sitting at a round table enjoying a few rounds of ale, headed by a fuzzy red-haired dwarf. Compared to his drinking buddies' pints he was winning the drinking competition. The dwarf through back another pint finishing it in three gulps, and slammed his mug onto the table proclaiming victory. His other companions threw gold pieces into the center of the table acknowledging his victory.

"Another victory to Oghren!" the dwarf exclaimed over everyone else's chatter. He pulled in his earnings, counting as he slid them into his leather pouch. He let out a loud belch before wiping away remaining spittle from his lips and fiery, thick beard. "Who's up for another round! Double or nothing!" the drunken dwarf roared. His group of wardens each bowed out from the challenge. They could barely stand the sight and smell of the ale that flavored the tavern's air. The dwarf leaned back in his chair, laughing loudly. "And you call yourselves Wardens."

Outside the tavern, Hawke stood a few feet away from the entrance, thumbing at the letter that was given to her from the guards. There was no wax seal or any other noticeable embellishments to give away its origins. Remembering the guards that greeted her and Fenris was also suspicious. The way the elder guard acted in their first meeting gave her lingering doubts.

"Is something wrong," her companion gently questioned.

She snapped out of her train of thought. "Of course not," she taunted, masking her doubt and fears. She opened the door to The Crown and Lion, strong smells of ale and food flew in their faces and nostrils. "I believe we're at the right place," she playfully stated. Tables were filled with patrons talking, eating, and drinking. The atmosphere was lively and welcoming, or felt a little too welcoming. She took notice of a group of wardens with their heads lying on the table, and a dwarf, swirling his pint around somberly as if he were lost in his thoughts instead of his drink. The other patrons were either traders or locals that lived within the city.

She sidled toward the dwarf, trying not to cause too much a scene in asking her questions. "Excuse me," she whispered into his ear.

"Sodding…," he dropped his mug onto the table. "Who are you and why are you whispering?"

"Seeing as you're a warden," Hawke spoke in jest. "I figured you could answer a question."

"Aye, I'm a warden and what's it to you."

"I'm looking for a warden."

He looked up to the dark haired human with disregard. "So is half of Amaranthine," he banged his fist on the table. "Let's go. The Vigil is longing for our return," his group of wardens sluggishly rose from their seats and began sifting out into the city. "You found Wardens and now we're leaving," he slid out his chair, checking and drinking the remaining pints for any lingering bits of ale.

"Wait," she reached out grabbing his shoulder. Oghren pulled his shoulder away from her grip. It was clear that the dwarf did not want to be involved with Hawke's present affairs. It was not point in pushing him into giving information. It was clear that his mind was made up.

"It appears we are back where we started."

"Tell me about it."


End file.
